


Some Semblance of Innocence

by finch (afinch)



Category: Dexter (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-23
Updated: 2008-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-01 17:55:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1046825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afinch/pseuds/finch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dexter takes care of Deb after the events of S1. Set pre-S2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Semblance of Innocence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [baranduin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/baranduin/gifts).



> Written for Baranduin in the Yuletide 2008 Challenge

I feel for Deb, I really do. I can hear her turning in the night. It must completely erode your sense of self worth, to have dated and loved a man who is a terrible killer.

It's been two weeks and she still screams in her sleep. Living with me now. I love her, I'll do anything for her, but this? I don't know how to handle. I don't know what I'm supposed to do with her screaming in her sleep, crying for Rudy, crying for help, just crying with no words.

She trusts me. I don't get that. I wouldn't trust anyone. I don't trust anyone.

"Dex!"

I jump, look up from the computer. Looking at slides because I can't kill. They keep me going. She's looking at me, expectantly. Shit. I haven't been paying attention. "Sorry, could you ..."

She glowers, stares out the window to the rain pattering on the window. It's a rare storm for us, but I enjoy the cool break in the weather. Of course, that gives us nothing to do today. She isn't going to repeat herself, I know she's not. I could try to guess, but I imagine it's more about Rudy, and asking her if she thinks she'll get better.

When she sees that I'm not going to answer, her face falls, resigned. "We could go to work."

"Deb. You don't want to go to work," I say. "You really don't." She really doesn't. She's only slept three hours in the past two days. She can't work. They've told her to take some time. Meaning, they've also told me to take some time. I don't mind, really, taking care of my little sister, but the rain puts a damper on everything.

"We could play Scrabble?"

Scrabble. Look at what my sister is reduced to. She wants to take me on in Scrabble. She's going to lose. Unless I'm nice and let her win. But then she'll call me on it, and we'll fight. So it's lose-lose. There's no way to have a close game in Scrabble without looking like you're throwing the game.

"We can't play Scrabble."

"Why not?" She actually has the sense to look properly outraged.

"I'll beat you."

"Monopoly?" We stopped playing Scrabble when I was 12 because she couldn't stand how badly I beat her. And Monopoly? That was even early, I think I must have been about 9. I could beat everyone in the house in under two hours. What can I say? I have a gift. Another gift. Ah, back when the times were innocent. Or at least had some semblance of innocence.

"I'll beat you."

"Pictionary." Now there's one. She looks hopeful at that. Giving up is better for me.

"I'll go buy it."

That's how we communicate now, Deb and I. She's practically living with me full time. And now we've resorted to playing Pictionary. She'll be thrilled to win, maybe it'll give her a good boost of self-esteem. I'd like if she could get some of that back.

Of course, I can't go to the store to buy Pictionary without Doakes. Of course. To him, nothing is innocuous. I go bowling with the guys, he's there. I fill up on gas, he's there. Grocery shopping? There's Doakes. He's here, watching me buy a game for my addled sister who will never quite be normal again. He's watching some semblance of innocence, but he doesn't buy it. I wouldn't buy it either.

_"I can draw and Dexter can't! I can draw and Dexter can't!" Eleven year old Deb dances around the table while Dexter mutters profanities under his breath._

_"Dexter ..." Harry says warningly and Dexter crosses his arms over himself, glares at Deb._

_"Shut up," Dexter says. "It's my turn again, isn't it?"_

_"I'm just happy I can beat you in something."_

_Dexter kicks her under the table and she winces._

_"Dexter!" Harry says, placing a hand firmly on the table. "Play nice or don't play at all."_

Doakes follows me all the way home. I wave the game at him before heading inside. It shouldn't surprise me, but does, to see Deb rocking back and forth on the couch, sobbing. Not again. This is why she can't go to work. Anything, it seems, will set her off.

"I got the Pictionary!" I say brightly. "Come on, Deb, beat me like old time's sake."

"Look at you and Rita!" she sobs, showing me a picture. "I'll never have that!"

"But you have Pictionary."

"Dex!"

She is a broken shell and I don't know how to make her whole. Playing a silly game won't help, but I don't know what will. I kill to make myself whole again.

"You'll get better, Deb."

"Better how?"

"A day at a time." I don't know where this is coming from. It sounds like something on a Hallmark card. She seems to appreciate it though, and gives me a watery smile.

"You're all I've got, Dex."

"Which is why we're going to play Pictionary and you're going to kick the crap out of me."

It works and she smiles, reaches for the box, "I'll set up, you get the food."

Little moments of normalcy for both of us; it'll help her get better, being confident at something. It'll help me not gnash my teeth or strangle Doakes. I could take Doakes. The problem is making it look like Doakes had a heart attack. Doakes doesn't have heart attacks. Still, trying to draw kumquats is entertaining.

I watch Deb laugh and she looks at peace for the first time in 17 days.

Little moments of normalcy indeed. She'll get better, I know she will. As for me? I have other things to worry about once she's better. Once I get her better I can go back to being normal.

"Thanks, Dex," she says softly, shyly.

I rub her shoulder again, "Oh, Deb. You're all I've got. Now, uh, the White House?"

"I can draw and Dex can't!" she crows, dancing in her seat. "I can draw and you can't!"


End file.
